Mirrors
by seahorse7
Summary: But what if we were to look at this world through our twisted mirror? What would we see, dear reader? Are those whose morals we seem sure of still the same? Would the lines between good and evil even still exist as we know it?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a mirrorverse story. I have no excuse for this other than I have been reading way to many mirrorverse fics lately, and a particularly evil plot bunny bit me when I was reading _The Siege. _

**_Wendy_**_: I'm in the mirror universe. ... A parallel universe where everyone who's good is evil, and evil is good. It's like __that episode__ of __Star Trek__ where Spock had a goatee and Chekov tried to —_

_ -__The Middleman_, "The Palindrome Reversal Palindrome"

Look into a mirror, and you see a reflection of yourself. Is that reflection simply just a reflection of your appearance, or is it something more? Is it some other being, some other you that is both the same and yet different? Is this mirror a window into some other Twilight Zone-esque, alternate reality, where another you exists, but is twisted, skewed in some way you cannot begin to comprehend?

You are, dear reader, probably quite familiar with the war between noble Guardians and their myriad of allies against the evil Pure Ones. Who can forget the great achievements of the Band and the Chaw of Chaws? The noble Soren, the jaunty Twilight, the knowledgeable Otulissa, the wise Ezylryb? How about the dark and twisted Nyra, the evil-turned-good Uglamore, and fiendish Metal Beak, Soren's own brother? The list goes on and on, with owls and allies alike taking their turn in the great chronicle of the owl kingdoms and the Great Tree.

But what if we were to look at this world through our twisted mirror? What would we see, dear reader? Are those whose morals we seem sure of still the same? Would the lines between good and evil even still exist as we know it? Let us take a flight over this reflected land, dear reader, and I shall tell you of what we see.

We look over a landscape that still looks the same as before, but that is unsurprising. For it is the nature of a mirror to reflect physical appearances, and it is no different here. The Great Tree still exists in the middle of the Hoolemere Sea, and the forest kingdom of Tyto still exists to the south of it, past the Beaks.

Drawing closer, we see a hollow in a fir tree, home to a family of Barn Owls, the Albas to be precise. There is a mother and father, and their two sons, as well as an egg about to hatch. One son dreams of battle and glory, and the other dreams of the legends his father tells in the wee hours of the morning. A blind, rosy-colored snake cheerfully keeps house for this family. What about this scene is different? Nothing in outward appearances, for as I said before, a mirror reflects the appearances of what it is shown.

The family is focused on the egg, which is just beginning to hatch. Out tumbles a female chick, whom the mother promptly names Eglantine. One brother loves her immediately, and the other turns away, seeing nothing but competition in the nest for his parents' already limited attention. They do not seem to like him as much, he has surmised, as he is always questioning the status quo.

After he and his brother settle to sleep after their branching practice, the mother and father start to talk quietly in that way grown owls do when they don't want their young ones to know of things that could ruin their innocence. They speak of owlet and egg snatchings, of owls disappearing into the night without a trace, of their fears for their own little family. Sounds familiar, right?

It is here that the minute differences in our mirrorverse start to emerge. We hear not only the words "egg stealing", "owlet snatching", but also "Guardians" and "Ga'hoole," used in conjunction with these terrible phrases. Further eavesdropping reveals a truly awful revelation: these are not the noble Guardians we know and love. These so-called Guardians patrol the owl kingdoms and "keep the peace" by any means necessary, which includes "disposing" of dissenters. Remember the earlier mention of owls disappearing without a trace? Perhaps these are the culprits? More than likely, but no sane owl here would ever admit that. Eggs and owlets disappearing without a trace; most likely to be turned into future Guardians, loyal to the cause and willing to enforce any laws and edicts set down by the High King of the Great Tree, whose ancestor seized power in the time of hagsfiends and natchmagen. He defeated the noble hagsfiends, who were some of the only beings with any power to resist him.

Noble hagsfiends? To use those two words in one sentence seems blasphemous. What kind of reflection is this that we are seeing? Remember, dear reader, that our mirror is twisted. It likes to take what we see and turn it on its head, even if we don't notice it at first. If our mirror is twisted in such a manner, then what else will it show us?

How about a Great Horned and her loyal Western Screech lieutenant who work tirelessly in the canyons to snatch back the owlets and eggs taken by the Guardians? What of their goals? To train their adopted sons and daughters, and hopefully one day have an army large enough to take on the Guardians? Perhaps to understand the terrible power of the flecks that they have in abundance, and why these are so valuable to the Guardians?

What of a mysterious blue owl in a kingdom to the far west, who dreams of a time when his ancestors fought valiantly in a land of ice and snow, even daring to fly over the salty water of the sea? The salty water that could have spelled their doom, and the many for whom it did? An owl, who is drowning in the lush and gorgeous riches that could be considered glaumora by many, but is his own personal hagsmire? A gilded prison, designed by one of those who vanquished his noble ancestors and made them powerless?

What of a small group of owls, who consider themselves pure in gizzard and mind, and who are determined to purify the owl kingdoms of the evil of the Guardians? What of their leader, a beautiful owl, who is said to be descended from the hagsfiends themselves? Their military commander, who grows old and infirm after so many failed battles? The desperation of the group, who pride themselves on their military prowess, as they look for a new leader before the current one expires?

And finally, what of two brothers? One, who is unloved and unwanted, a warrior born but unable to use his gifts? They say we are all hatched to do something, and this one knows he was meant to fight. He has known it ever since he saw the Barn Owl flash by outside his hollow with the battle claws. He longs to test his prowess in battle, but that is forbidden. What of the other, favored brother? The acceptor of the status quo, the believer in all of the legends, many fabricated, some forbidden, that his father tells? The one who is devoted to his sister, almost to the point of fanatic obsession?

We see in this twisted reflection a owl world that waits. It needs only the right catalyst to set events into motion. In our world, it was the evil of one brother who pushed the other out of their hollow home to die.

Like our world, the catalyst that sets the momentous events into motion begins with the idea of death, the death of an owlet in the Alba family. This family seems either blessed or accursed by Glaux, depending on the point of view.

Except in this world, there is a death, not a supposed one. A band of rebels attacks a patrol of Guardians in an insane, last-ditch maneuver as they are cornered after a long chase in front of a fir tree. One brother, who is still in the nest watching his beloved younger sister while the parents and other brother are out hunting, are caught in the middle. Confused and terrified, the two young owls try to escape the bloodbath outside their hollow. They make good their escape, but suddenly a terrible cry rents the air.

It is Eglantine, as she falls down, down, down, to the forest floor below, mortally wounded. She has been struck by a Guardian by mistake. Her maddened brother did not see this. All he sees is the rebel owl that valiantly dives to catch her. Fueled by insane rage, he attacks, and a new Guardian is born. However, her other brother, returning from the hunt, sees the truth of the attack unfolding before his horrified eyes, and watches as his seemingly gentle brother kills his sister's would-be rescuer.

The last bit our twisted mirror shows us is two stony-eyed and stony-gizzarded owls, as they sit on the branches of their childhood fir. Rage burns in the eyes of both, but for different reasons. They speak of what they saw, and begin to argue heatedly. Their argument quickly turns to violence, and after trading blows, one of them wings north. The other sits and momentarily mourns the loss of his family and his innocence, then straightens. He is stronger than this, a born warrior. With a fierce look burning in his eye, he takes to the skies towards parts unknown. His fate is with the winds, but he does not care. Because, for the first time in his life, his gizzard is telling him he flying the right path, and for the first time in his life, he feels free!


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Not much to say here other than I'm not really sure where to take this from here...The oneshot I originally wrote didn't seem to me like it wanted to stay as a oneshot, and so it grew somehow into this._

Jagged spires of reddish-brown stone slash at the sky, awash in a glowing red light of sunrise that makes it appear that they are bathed in blood. Not much grows here. It is a forbidding landscape, a tough place to eke out an existence. Most owls, indeed, most raptors of all kinds, avoid this place. Why, you ask? This area does not offer much to a predatory bird searching for prey. Most prey species that live here are tough and stringy, without the meat or flavor of their eastern woodland counterparts, even more lean and tasteless than their desert and grassland cousins. Their lean condition reflects their environment-not a single bit of nutrient is wasted on fat in their bodies.

The badlands are barren and ruthless, which is a trait that is transferred to the few predatory species that call this area home. The rattlers in this area are said to be ten times more venomous, and ten times meaner, than their desert cousins. A Burrowing Owl once wrote that he would rather face off against twenty Kuneer rattlers than a single one from the canyons. Wind currents are treacherous, as they howl through the needles. Deadly vortexes are created, ones that will slam a bird into bare rock, the ground, or impale them on the jagged cliffs. Little water runs through these canyons except in little rivulets in the canyon bottoms.

Come summer, this area is baked in the sun and almost all water dries up, the few plants either go dormant or die, and the native animals struggle even harder to survive. Fall and spring bring rains that flood the canyons, turning them into foaming brown rapids of death, sweeping away anything and everything in their paths and carving the twisting canyons even deeper. Winter, especially the nights, brings little snow, freezing rain, and low temperatures. Freezing winds blast through the twisting maze of rocks, chilling any unlucky creature without shelter to the bones.

It is in the bloodred sunrise that a large owl sits upon one of the jagged spires as she watches the moon slip from the sky and the sun start to rise over the canyonlands. She is a large, rather ragged Great Horned Owl. A patch over one wing, a reminder of a battle with the Guardians that nearly claimed her life. She may be uneducated, and may not be a true warrior, but she is a bitter and capable fighter who fights fiercely to protect what she considers hers.

A soft flutter draws her attention as Jatt, one of her most trusted lieutenants and adopted nephew, drops down next to her. He and his brother Jutt are identical twin brothers from a single egg, a extreme rarity among birds, which also makes them extremely difficult to tell apart. The brothers do often seem to be on the same brainwave, such as finishing each other's sentences and alternating speaking, and are rarely seen apart. Skench found them as young owlets abandoned by both their parents and the Guardians, for twins are rare enough in the owl world that they are considered to be an extremely ill omen, especially to those who dare to consort with them. The embittered Great Horned had brought both of them back to the canyonlands where she lived. The two had attached themselves to her, and she ended up raising both of them. They were the reason she and Spoorn had established the Orphanage to snatch back and provide for owlets who were stolen by the Guardians, and hopefully give them a better life. The twins were the anchor that brought her back from the brink, the cliff she had been teetering on so close to becoming the very same as the monsters that she despised.

"Greetings, Amita," Jatt greets her in his deep, thrumming voice characteristic of his species. "My brother and his group have just returned from Kuneer and I and mine from Tyto. We both managed to rescue ten owlets from the Guardians between us."

Skench nods in approval and answers, "Excellent work, Lieutenant. You have done well." She will never directly admit the pride she feels in the owl that she considers her son, or how proud she is in the owls he and his brother have become.

An expression of slight confusion and concern comes over Jatt's face. He and his brother are often expressionless, never really showing their feelings, and for such an expression to come over Jatt's face means he is very, very worried about something. Skench waits patiently for her adopted son to spill what is bothering him. "One of the owlets that we brought in is a just-fledged Barn Owl. We found him on the ground, starving and half-mad, raving about something or other. I think that the Guardians must have killed his family."

Skench turns her head to look directly at Jatt, "We must give this owlet special care then. Place him in Finny's pit-she has great experience in dealing with traumatized young owlets and should be able to help him."

Finny, an old Snowy owl, is originally from the Northern Kingdoms. In another life, she was a politician in the infamous Kielian League, one whose silver tongue could charm anybird, and she used it to her advantage. She was the one who helped Moss and the others unite the warring clans in the north against the Ice Talons. It was after the Kielian League's greatest warrior, a owl she had trusted greatly, had allied himself with the Guardians who had killed her mate and two hatchlings, that she left. She eventually ended up here, in this desperate place where only the desperate go. Her former experience as a mother, and her charming demeanor that makes owls immediately feel safe and calm around her, is what makes her the best at dealing with troubled owlets like this traumatized young Barn Owl.

Jatt nods, and then flies off to take care of things. He, and his brother, are owls of few words, even though they have the most lovely thrumming voices that can cause vibrations down to an bird's hollow bones. Skench nods in approval as she watches him go. Jatt is more than competent; he will handle this problem well.

She sits for a while longer and watches the bloodred sunrise turn to a golden yellow as the sun continue to rise over the canyonlands. As soon as the sun starts to rise over the two spires of rock that have been nicknamed "The Great Horns" for their supposed resemblance to the distinctive ear tufts of her species, she takes flight and returns to the cleft in the rock she calls home. A pair of yellow eyes peers out of the welcome darkness of the cleft. It is Spoorn, a Western Screech Owl, that is her equal partner in practically everything. She has often wondered why Glaux has cursed her so. The one owl that she would have gladly taken as a mate, the one that complements her the best, isn't even the same species as her. In fact, they aren't even the same height. She must always look down on him, never as an equal.

Skench doesn't have many memories of her parents or the rest of her family-they were taken by the Guardians when she was young. However, she does remember how her sister had found a wonderful mate and had two sons. This memory has stayed with Skench her whole life. No matter what twisted depravity, personal hell, or agonizing torture she has had to endure, the dream of having a mate and family is what has kept her going over the years. But now, that dream is all but dead. Skench is old, and not getting any younger. She is too old to have eggs anymore, and she knows that no one will want a mate with a history such as hers.

Spoorn pauses, and then speaks, hesitant to interrupt her train of thought, "There have been more raids on the Guardians in the Forest of Tyto."

Skench cocks her head as she considers this, and then scoffs, "Most likely more of those guerilla bands of fighters. Probably those out of Ambala have spilled over into Tyto. The two kingdoms do share a border, so I wouldn't be surprised."

Spoorn shakes his head, "No, these raids are much too coordinated to be that ragtag bunch. These are _planned_, Skench. Far too well-planned. Whomever came up with them, they know fighting, and they know how to use their forces and _win._ The Guardians have been losing owls right and left in Tyto, and they still haven't been able to find the culprits. The owls that have been executing these raids I would be willing to be have a military background. You know Unkgar, the old Great Grey?"

"You mean Unk, the pit guardian?"

"Yes, he was once a member of the Ice Talons who turned hireclaw and then ended up here. He was a drill sergeant back in the day, and helped with tactical. If anyone knows military, it's him. He walked in while me, the twins, and some others were going over several of the raids, and he was amazed at how well strategized they were. He told me that they can't be isolated incidents. 'This is something bigger,' he told me. 'This is somebody who knows what they are doing, and are aiming to do the most damage and make the biggest inconveniences to the Guardians that they can. This is also somebody who knows how to fade into the shadows and cover their tracks.' We haven't been able to get much more information. It isn't just because we're so isolated out here, but the truth is, there just isn't any information about this group out there. Maybe if we could put out some more scouts..."

Skench contemplates this, and then says, "There is no information because they do not want to be found, Spoorn. Unlike us, they do not have the inhospitality and dangers of the canyonlands to help them keep their anonymity and protect them from the evils of the owl world. They are forced to hide in plain sight, with none of the protections that we take for granted. If more information is available about them, it will be because they allow it to be spread. And if they wish for contact with us, they will be the ones to initiate contact, not us. All we can do is sit and wait."

Spoorn sighs, and then comments, "It seems that all we have done over the past seasons is wait. Do you never get tired of it? Do you never wish that there is some catalyst that will make it all change?"

To this Skench has no reply. The two sit in companionable silence for awhile, and then eventually drop off to sleep. They are awakened around noon by the rumble of thunder in the distance, one of the summer storms that happen so often in the afternoons.

Skench looks at Spoorn, and then moves towards the entrance, looking up at the darkening sky. Right on cue, two forms with distinctive ear tufts come arrowing out of the sky. Skench backs up into their hollow as Jatt and Jutt come streaking into land at the entrance to the cleft. By the time they have composed themselves, she has already made it back to her sleeping area, and Spoorn is casually pretending to sleep over on his preferred perch. As Jatt and Jutt come filing in, they appear perfectly calm.

It is all an act, of course, one played over many times, so well-practiced that it is second nature. None of the owls present will admit what they consider a weakness. Skench and Spoorn will never admit that they care for the twins, and Jatt and Jutt will never admit that they are terrified of the storms and still seek shelter from their fears with the owls who raised them. The pasts of both Skench and Spoorn make them wary of showing care towards another, and they have, regrettably, passed this same fear along to the twins.

"We were caught," Jatt says.

"In the storm Amita," Jutt finishes.

"We thought that,"

"We might take shelter,"

"And of course your hollow,"

"Was the closest place to do so."

Their odd, alternating speech requires patience to listen to, but Skench doesn't mind. She simply nods, and settles back in her resting place as the two fall asleep. Spoorn opens one eye, looks at the two, and then falls back asleep as well. She looks out over the three of them, when a thought strikes her. She has, after all these years, found what she always wanted when she was younger. Does she not have a mate and two sons, in all but name?

She moves to the entrance again, and looks up to the storming sky. "You sure do have a twisted sense of humor, Glaux," she mutters. A strange feeling of being watched comes over her, making the small feathers on the back of her neck prickle. She looks down, and sees Finny's group passing below her on their way back to the shelter of their pit. One, a young Barn Owl barely fledged, is looking up at her. He would be a handsome young owl, if it were not for his dead looking eyes. They stare at her with something akin to hatred. A feeling of absolute dread wracks Skench's gizzard as she stares at the young owl. She isn't sure what the feeling of dread is warning of, but she does know one thing. She has found part of Spoorn's hoped-for catalyst. And all she can fervently hope for is that this catalyst will change things for the better, and that her adopted family will come out of it unscathed ...and alive.


End file.
